


Livin' Proof

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: The Girl in Lovers Lane (1960)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nobody is Dead, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: Danny takes Bix home, but Bix isn't entirely sure what he's supposed to do next.
Relationships: Bix Dugan/Danny Winslow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Livin' Proof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verecunda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/gifts).



Bix straightened his back and let his legs stretch as much as he could. He wasn't used to sitting in one place for so long, but the seat he and Danny shared was a lot more comfortable than the way he was used to traveling.

John Winslow had offered to send enough bread for them to get a ticket to the higher-class cars where they’d each have a cushioned chair they could lean back in and turn around if they wanted. Bix was instantly uncomfortable with the idea of Danny’s old man buying them tickets at all, so they’d opted for a car with two-person seats in the back and singles in the front.

As a thick man walked through the car checking tickets, a baseball-sized knot tightened in Bix’ chest. He'd patted the pocket where he kept his ticket no less than five times since they sat down to make sure he hadn’t lost it. The idea of getting caught hopping a ride for free in a boxcar and tossed off had never worried him, but he was nearly sweating at the idea of not having that ticket and being called out for it in front of the other passengers.

_I must be goin’ soft in the head._

“Tickets, please.” The man lowered his brow as he glared at Bix, hand outstretched. 

Bix plucked it out of his pocket and smacked it into his hand, and was about to say something about his attitude when Danny held his ticket out to the man. “Here you are.”

“ _Sir_ ,” the man said before he returned Danny’s ticket. He gave Bix one last glare and kept moving. 

“You see the way he looked at me?”

“You surprised him, Bix, slapping his hand like that.”

“No, I mean before. He didn’t think I had a ticket, you could tell.”

Danny stared at him like he had two heads.

“What? He pegged me as trouble, Danny, and copped an attitude. I was about to correct him when you interrupted.”

Danny frowned. “I didn’t hear an attitude. He just sounded a little tired.”

Bix almost ruffled his hair, then remembered they weren’t alone. “You’re still so naïve, Danny. You always see the best in everybody, even when there ain’t nothin’ to see.”

Danny focused on the back of the head of the passenger in front of him. “That’s not true.”

“I’m livin’ proof, Danny boy.” Danny saw far more good in Bix than he had in there. He’d gotten lucky to meet up with Bix instead of somebody worse, that was true, but that didn’t make Bix some kind of damn hero. “You really sure your old man is alright with you dragging some stranger into his house?”

“I’m sure,” he said in a tone that added _just like the other fifty times you’ve asked._

Bix scoffed, but Danny didn’t turn his head. He’d taken to clamming up for a bit, pouting, every time Bix pointed out how naïve he was. And hell, maybe it wasn’t fair. Danny _was_ naïve, there was no getting around that, and he’d had rose-colored glasses at first when it came to people, but Bix wasn’t sure he still looked at the world entirely that way anymore, not after everything that had happened in Sherman. 

He really oughta lay off. He hated that every time they had one of these conversations, it put a frown on the kid’s face.

The train stopped, and about half of the people in their car started to file out. Next stop was theirs. 

“Hey, Bix, since the train will be stopped for a few minutes anyway, do you want to get off and maybe call and check on her?” Danny looked hopeful. 

“Too soon.” 

“You don’t think she’d be happy to hear from you?”

“I think she might be, but that don’t mean it’s good for her.”

“I don’t understand, Bix. You saved her from Jesse. Why wouldn’t calling her be a good thing?”

“Because all I am now and all I’ll ever be is a reminder of what would have happened to her if I hadn’t showed up when I did.” Bix’ feet had started to itch already anyway, he wouldn’t have stayed there much longer, but finding Carrie with that creep kissing her, hands around her throat and her dress already torn because he was trying to—

No, Bix couldn’t think about the what-ifs. He wouldn’t let himself. And it made him sick to his stomach to know that Carrie, for the rest of her life, wouldn’t have a choice.

Bix pressed his fingertips against the tender bruise on his cheekbone. “She’ll be all right. She’s got a protective old man and some friends who’ll watch out for her.”

Cal had a couple of buddies over, playing cards and having a few drinks, when Bix took her home. Between Carrie’s torn dress and her crying, they’d assumed the worst. If Danny had caught that ride out of town like Bix had told him to instead of showing up when he did, he’d surely be dealing with more than bruises, if he'd lived through it at all. Danny even got a few fists to the face trying to defend Bix before Carrie had been able to make them understand what had happened.

Bix remembered every punch and boot-toe to his ribs. None of them were going to let anyone near Carrie for a long time. Leaving was easier knowing that she was protected, and that Jesse would go straight to jail once he got out of the hospital, so he wouldn’t be skulking around her or any women anymore.

Bix clenched his fists. It had been so easy to hit him and keep hitting him. The only thing that had stopped him was Carrie’s shouting at him to stop, like she knew Bix was about to kill him and even after what Jesse had tried to do, she didn’t want him to go that far. 

Sometimes Bix wished she hadn’t said anything, just let him finish the guy off so he could never bother anybody again. Too bad it hadn’t happened like it had with his old man. If ever a guy deserved to be taken out with one punch—

“Hey, Bix?”

Bix knew that tone. Danny had been talking and Bix had been back in Sherman, which might as well have been a million miles away. 

“Sorry, Danny. Look, we’ll let the dust settle first, then we’ll give her a call just so she knows we haven’t forgot about her, okay?”

That seemed to satisfy Danny. They didn’t talk on the rest of the trip, and it was nice. Silence was always easy with Danny, in a way it wasn’t with most people. Sometimes he pushed Bix to talk, but he didn’t expect constant conversation, and he seemed to know when Bix wasn’t in a mood to be nudged. 

When their train reached the platform, Bix would have forgotten the small canvas bag between his feet if he hadn’t nearly tripped over it. Carrie had given it to them to carry the extra clothing they’d had to buy after the fight in the alley. Bix had planned to tie them in a handkerchief, but Carrie had insisted he take it. It felt strange to carry anything after so long with only the clothes on his back.

Danny practically bounced as they headed out of the train. His old man had at least postponed the divorce, said he and his wife were working on their marriage, and Danny seemed to think that meant they’d end up staying together.

Bix warned him not to get his hopes up, but he smiled a lot when he talked about it, and that was nice to see.

John Winslow appeared out of the crowd and grabbed Danny’s upper arms, a broad smile on his face. “Danny!”

John was closer to Bix’ height than Danny’s, clean-shaven with a salt-and-pepper hairline that looked like it was making a run for it and would be completely gone inside a few years.

The guy looked like he wanted to hug Danny but wasn’t sure if it was allowed or something, so he gave him a few light shakes. “When you said you were bruised, I didn’t think you’d look like a prizefighter who just got out of the ring, Son.” 

“It’s not that bad,” Danny said with a smile, clearly proud of the bruises he had. 

John grabbed Danny’s chin and turned his head side to side. “Look at that shiner.” He sounded as proud as Danny, and a pang hit Bix square in the chest. You couldn’t exactly miss something you’d never had, but to even imagine his old man just once looking at him the way John looked at Danny felt like missing something important.

Danny’s mother pushed past him and jerked Danny into a fierce hug. “Oh, my boy. We were so worried about you, so worried!”

She was a slight woman, pale but prettily so, with auburn hair styled in pincurls under a dark green hat. She met Bix’ gaze over Danny’s shoulder. “Thank you for bringing him home.” 

Her voice was trembling and sweet, and her eyes were gentle, reminding him of Carrie’s. He liked her instantly. Bix’ throat tightened, and he couldn’t get the words out to explain that actually Danny was the one bringing _him_. 

A meaty hand was shoved at him. “So, you’re Bix. John. John Winslow, but I’m sure you know that,” the man said as Bix took his hand and shook it. “Vivian and I are pleased that you’ll be staying with us.”

The smile John gave him barely passed as one. He wasn’t pleased at all, and Bix had half a mind to say that, but Vivian had finished patting Danny’s face and clicking her tongue over his bruises, so she threw her arms around Bix. “We’re looking so forward to getting to know you.”

Almost everything that came to Bix’ mind then would have sounded like an insult, so he bit his tongue. John had apparently decided he didn’t care what anyone thought and hugged Danny, so while he was distracted, Bix smiled at Vivian as much as he could manage. 

“You should prepare for disappointment, then. Danny has probably talked me up way too much.”

She laughed, a tinkling, soft sound. “He has talked you up, but I’ve never known Danny to lie.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Looks like you’ve gotten some lumps, too.”

Bix shrugged. “I can take ‘em.”

Her eyes went soft and sad. She gently squeezed his face before turning back to her son. Bix’ throat tightened up again, and he couldn’t even explain to himself why. 

John snatched the bag out of his hand before Bix could think to hang onto it. “I’ll take that.”

“I’ve got it,” Bix said.

“Nonsense,” John barked. “You’re our guest. Now let’s get home. Vivian’s made pot roast for dinner _and_ a chocolate cake.”

“Sounds great, mom.” Danny held his arm out for her to take, and he looked so happy, Bix didn’t argue like he might have otherwise.

When they reached the car, Bix nudged Danny with his elbow. “Sure you don’t want to hitchhike home, Danny boy, just for old time’s sake?”

Danny and Vivian both laughed, and she swatted Bix’ arm, already comfortable being that familiar with him. John’s face screwed up in a lame attempt at a smile that made it look like he had gas pains.

That was alright. Fathers disliked Bix as a rule. He hadn’t let himself believe Danny’s old man would be any different.

* * *

John had messages from the office he needed to take care of, and Vivian went to set up the dining room for dinner, so he and Danny were left alone right after they arrived.

“Come on, Bix. I’ll show you the guest room. It’s across the hall from mine.”

Bix whistled low. “You really underplayed how loaded your old man is, Danny. I’m surprised you didn’t run away with a _thousand_ bucks in your pocket.” 

Their house fit in with the other houses in the neighborhood, so Danny probably had no idea that most people didn’t live like this. Everybody on that street must have been loaded to the gills. 

It wasn’t exactly a mansion, and nothing was priceless or rare that he knew of, but it all looked too expensive for him. Thick layers of covers on his bed had already been folded back like he was at some fine hotel. The shiny wood furniture and detailed rug on the floor were worth more than Bix would ever be even if he worked every second of the rest of his life. 

“We’re not rich, Bix. He does well, but he’s not _loaded_. He only made partner a couple of years ago.”

“Partner? You said he was a lawyer. That’s like telling me he’s the fry cook when he owns the restaurant.” He touched the sheets, which were softer than anything he’d ever slept on. 

“My room’s right there.” Danny pointed across the hall. 

Bix couldn’t resist. He took Danny’s arm and led him through that door, curious about what he might find, hoping both for and against it looking like a kid’s room so it’d be easier to banish certain thoughts from his head. 

It looked the same as the guest room but without the Oriental rug on the floor, tidy and classy, the dark walls only broken by the windows and lighter curtains and a bright blue sports pennant on one wall. Nothing felt childish or even immature in Danny’s room. It seemed too old for someone eighteen, but with a lawyer for a dad who wanted Danny to follow in his footsteps, maybe acting like an adult had always been expected. 

Bix ruffled his hair. “I’ll be. Not a single pin-up anywhere.”

Danny laughed, his cheeks reddening. “If I’d ever tried to bring a pin-up into this house my mother would have a fit. Not that I would try anyway.”

Bix tilted his head. “No pictures of any girl you’re sweet on stuck to your dressing mirror, either. Did you go to high school or were you born a thirty-year-old?”

“I went,” Danny said, stepping closer to him. “Just wasn’t interested in any of the girls.”

“Probably didn’t have time with all your studying,” Bix said, hating how hopeful he sounded. 

“I had time. Just wasn’t interested, Bix.”

They were too close now. Bix was too tempted, too excited by the idea that he might have been right about the way Danny always leaned against him and touched him all the time when it wasn’t necessary. They way he sometimes caught Danny looking at him like he was some kind of leading man. 

“Level with me, Danny. There’s a girlie magazine under your mattress where you mom don’t snoop, ain’t there?”

Danny scoffed, flashing a half-smile. “No, but if you don’t believe me you can check for yourself.”

“Nah, I trust ya.” _And sometimes I wish I didn’t._ “But come on, don’t tell me Peggy was the first girl you dated?”

Danny’s blush deepened. “We were mostly with you and Carrie.”

“You sure looked at her sappy enough. I thought you might fall hard, kid.”

“I never wanted to _date_ Peggy. It’s just that when someone pays you so much attention and looks at you in a certain way, like they can’t get over what they’re seeing, like Peggy did, and Sadie . . . that’s kind of hard to resist.”

Danny met his stare, then his gaze roved over Bix’ face like he wanted to memorize him or find something he hadn’t seen before. Bix almost laughed at the irony. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” he said softly. 

He knew full well it was damn hard to resist, and getting harder by the day.

“Bix, I—”

“Thanks for the tour, Danny. Great digs. But I’ll bet your mom could use some help,” Bix said, because Danny stepped closer, and he didn’t want Danny to say something they’d both regret. “I swear I can smell that pot roast from up here, and it’s makin’ my mouth water. Come on.”

He turned and led the way out of the room before Danny could say anything else.

* * *

Danny’s mom was a fine cook, and she encouraged Bix and Danny to keep eating long past the point Bix would have stopped if he’d been paying. John rarely addressed Bix, but kept his part of the conversation to asking Danny questions or telling him how worried this cousin or that uncle had been. 

Vivian, on the other hand, had a lot of questions for Bix. What should have felt like an interrogation, because he was sure that’s what it was, came across as genuine concern and curiosity, so Bix found he didn’t even mind. 

She asked so many questions, like had they seen a doctor about those bruises? How long did he plan to stay in the area? All while stressing that he was welcome to stay right there for as long as he wanted despite another gas-pain smile John flashed her way. Bix answered politely that he was sure he could find something on his own, they weren’t hurt bad enough to bother with a doctor, and he had no idea how long it'd be before he moved on. That answer snapped Danny’s head toward him. God he hated it when the kid got that hangdog look on his face, so he tried to get rid of it.

“Maybe I’ll settle down here for good, you never do know.”

John and Danny both stared at him after that. Danny didn’t hide his smile, and Bix hated himself for getting his hopes up. John barely hid his contempt, and when he saw Danny’s reaction a new shadow passed over his face. Bix wished he’d kept his mouth shut. 

Vivian said, “Wonderful, dear. I hope you like it here well enough to stay for a long time,” and took it in stride like every other answer. She forged ahead to ask him what some of his favorite foods were so she could make them while he was there. 

After dinner, Bix offered to help Vivian clean up along with Danny, but John wanted Bix to stay at the table and talk to him. He wished he had some reason not to like Vivian, and that he cared less about keeping Danny happy, because he figured odds were he’d want to clock the guy before the conversation was over. 

John asked him what kind of work he was qualified to do. They knew a lot of people, and surely at least one had an opening somewhere that would be a good fit. 

“I’ve mostly done odd jobs, handyman stuff. I’ve helped out at construction sites and learned a lot of stuff that way. And of course Danny and I both have recent experience working in a diner.”

“Yes,” he said, and the weight of his disapproval came through in that one nasally word. “Have you done plastering, tile work, framing, anything like that?”

“It’s been a while for all of them, but yeah.”

“So you’re good with your hands?”

“So I’m told.” Bix didn’t know if John knew he was drifter, or if he thought Bix just moved around a lot. The less said probably the better. 

John didn’t say anything else, just nodded and looked at the table. The silence made Bix uncomfortable.

“Danny tells me you’re a great lawyer, that you get most of your clients off.” 

“I don’t know about great, but I win more cases than I lose, yes.”

Bix took a long drink of his tea. “Good to know. If things get tight and I decide to rob a bank, maybe you can help me out in court.”

John’s mouth stretched into a line. Why the hell couldn’t Bix help himself? At least he should have said it while they were all still eating. He thought Vivian would have laughed. 

John put his palms flat on the table. “Well, Bix, I was thinking more that you could work at a bank, or help build one, not empty out the safe.” 

“I appreciate that. Just keeping my options open.”

John let a small chuckle escape at that. Bix had to give him credit. He thought he’d be tossed out on his ear by now, but it seemed like John was trying. Maybe he should quit pokin’ for a while, just see how things panned out. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be, was it?

Danny and Vivian came back faster than Bix expected, but it turned out cleaning up after dinner was just scraping dishes and arranging them for the housekeeper to take care of in the morning. 

They were all having an after dinner coffee in the sitting room when it became clear that Bix being there was as bad an idea as he’d suspected.

John and Vivian sat together on a short sofa, while Danny and Bix sat on a matching one across from them, with a coffee table between. John said something that caused Vivian to slap her coffee cup onto the saucer a little harder than necessary, Bix couldn’t even remember what it was, and within minutes they were arguing as if nobody else was in the room. 

Only Danny getting up to leave drew their attention. Vivian apologized and tried to get him to sit back down. John grumbled that the boy must be tired after riding a train as long as he had. That started them again, and Danny had to raise his voice to tell them good night. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Mom, I promise.”

As they went back to the argument, Bix drained his coffee cup and followed Danny upstairs. Instead of going to his own room, Danny went into Bix’ and sat on the side of the bed. 

“They’re still going to get divorced, aren’t they? You’ve told me that from the minute Dad said they were working on things, but I hoped you were wrong.”

Bix kicked his shoes off, threw the folded down blankets back into place, and stretched out on the bed, his hands laced behind his head. “If it means anything, I hoped I was wrong, too.”

Danny nodded his direction. “It does. Mean something.”

“I’m not going to be able to stay here, Danny.”

“Mom seems to like you a lot. She said a lot of nice things about you in the kitchen. Even said she thought you could use some ‘mothering.’” Danny smiled like it was something nice, but Bix’ heartbeat tripped and he sat up.

“Danny, you didn’t tell her about my old man?”

“Of course not. She asked if you’d had a rough start, and I said it had just been you and your dad, that he drank a lot, and you’d been on your own since you were fifteen. What happened then, that’s not my story to tell.”

Bix wished he hadn’t told her anything, but maybe she had a sense the way it was said some good mothers did. At least she didn’t know the worst of it. 

“But she likes you. You can stay.”

“They’re still fighting down there, and if they really do want to make a go of it, the stress of having a stranger in the house isn’t going to help. Especially since your old man is uneasy about me.”

Danny didn’t try to deny that he was. “We’ll find a place nearby, then, like we did in Sherman. Maybe if they have the house to themselves it’ll help.”

It probably wouldn’t, but Bix didn’t have the heart to point it out. “Don’t be silly. There ain’t no reason for you to leave, especially not with such a nice roof over your head. I’m the one that’s gotta go.”

“I’m going if you go.”

“Come on, Danny, try and see sense. This is your home. You’ve got a good thing here.”

“Are you trying to get me to stay for my own good, or is it because you really don’t want me to come with you?” Danny’s voice came out tight at the end. 

Bix put a hand on his arm. “Hey, you and me staying somewhere together like we did, that’d be swell. I just don’t want you to rush into something without thinking it through. Like when you decided to hop a train to get out of here,” he added, dropping his chin and glancing up at Danny with a grin. “Think about what you’re doing first.”

Danny cleared his throat. “Okay. I’ll sleep on it and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He pinned Bix down with the weight of his stare. “You’ll still be here in the morning, won’t you, Bix?”

It’d crush Danny if he took off under cover of darkness. In the long run that might be the best thing for Danny, but Bix couldn’t do it. Not just because of how it would hurt him, but because of how much it would hurt to leave him behind. 

“Are you kidding me? I’m sleeping late and soaking up as much of this luxury as I can while I’m here.” He pulled down a corner of the blankets and rubbed the sheet between his fingers and thumb, then shoved it at Danny. “Feel that. Is that silk or something?” he asked, though he knew it wasn’t, just an incredibly fine linen the likes of which he’d never see again. 

Danny humored him, rubbing the sheet between his fingers, and shrugged. ‘It’s just a sheet.”

Bix snorted and shoved him, then whacked him with the softest pillow in the world when he laughed. “You don’t know how good you’ve got it. Go to bed, Danny boy.”

Danny was on his way out when Bix asked, “Think it’d be rude if I went downstairs in the middle of the night for another piece of that cake?”

“Mom would probably be so flattered she’d bake one just for you. Both my parents told you to make yourself at home, and they meant it. You should help yourself to anything you want.”

_Oh, Danny._

Danny started to leave but turned back before he closed the door. “Did you really mean what you said, Bix, about us staying together? It’d be alright if I decided to leave with you?”

Bix struggled with the things he thought he should say to discourage Danny from thinking about leaving, but he couldn’t say them. All that mattered to him in that moment was that Danny understood the truth.

“I meant it. I want you to think hard before you make up your mind. But anywhere I go, Danny, you can come, too.”

Bix was grateful Danny was in the doorway. If he’d been sitting within reach like he had been earlier, Bix wouldn’t have had the strength to resist kissing away that smile.

* * *

Despite a bed more comfortable than Bix could have imagined, he couldn’t sleep. Too many things swirled around in his head—what he should do, what he shouldn’t, and why. After half an hour he gave up and decided the only cure might actually be that chocolate cake. He loved sweets but usually didn't eat them because he only ever had enough dough to buy the basics, or because he was working for food and beggars can’t be choosers. 

He’d eat this piece slow, not having to answer questions around a mouthful of it, and savor every crumb. 

When he reached the kitchen door, Vivian’s voice carried through. She and John had apparently taken their fight from the sitting room to the kitchen, though at a lower volume. If Bix was still awake after another hour, he’d try for that cake again. 

Before he could walk away, he heard his name. He should still go back to bed, but how could he? It wasn’t like he had to put his ear to the door to hear them. He stood outside the door, back against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting to hear about what kind of bum they thought he was. If he got caught, he was leaving tomorrow anyway. 

“What if he’s just a hooligan out to get a free ride, Vivian?”

Bix shook his head. At least he hadn’t needed to wait long. Not that he could blame John. He’d probably think the same thing.

“Then I suppose we’d deal with that when it became apparent. But he’s not, John. As good as you are at reading your clients, I’m surprised you don’t see that. A hooligan wouldn’t have been so good to Danny all this time.”

“We don’t know anything about him.”

“And he doesn’t know anything about us. What’s your point?”

A chair scooted, someone getting up. “Have you seen the way he looks at Danny?”

Bix’ breath caught. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to run right through the front door and keep on going. 

_That’s it. I can’t stick around this place, not this town, probably not this state._ Bix’ insides started to shake. Why did he think he could stay here near Danny? Why had he let himself start to think along those lines?

“Yes, I have.” Vivian’s voice had softened. “And I know you’ve seen the way Danny looks at him, too.”

Bix tried to swallow and couldn’t get it down. He hadn’t been imagining anything if Danny’s own mother saw it, too. How could she have been so nice to him, encouraging him to stay, if she’d noticed?

“You know how I feel about it, John. I’ve said the same thing every time it’s come up. I don’t care as long as he’s happy. Besides, they might be friends and nothing more. A person can have feelings for someone and never act on them. But I don’t suppose you’d know about that.”

Every time it’s come up? Bix wondered how long they’d suspected about Danny. More important, did Danny have any idea? It was a shame Bix was the one overhearing her defend her son and not Danny.

“How could he be happy? You know the kind of things . . . people like that have to deal with. What will people say, Vivian? You know how they talk.”

“They talk when there’s nothing to talk about. And I’ve discovered being talked about is hardly the end of the world. I’ve been the subject of a lot of it since your lack of discretion when it comes to Pamela. Or was it Paula?”

A silence stretched out so long, Bix thought he’d missed his chance to bolt for the stairs before someone stormed out of the room. But John spoke, his voice up in pitch even as it got quieter. 

“I know you want grandchildren, Viv. How can you not care?”

“I’ve always hoped for grandchildren. I’ve always wanted us to grow old together, too. I’m getting a lot of practice at not getting what I want.”

“Dammit, Vivian, it’s just not right!”

Vivian’s voice came soft and steady. “Says the adulterer.”

If Bix hadn’t cared about being discovered, he’d have applauded. She was a great cook and all, but she might have missed her calling. She should have been the lawyer. 

A dull thud sounded, like someone dropping into a chair. “Vivian . . . .”

“My name’s on this property too. As long as it is, Bix is welcome here.”

“I wasn’t going to throw him out.”

“You weren’t?”

“No, after everything he’s done for Danny, how could I? Like you said, maybe they’re just friends, but if not . . . I struggle to understand it.”

“If you never understand, would you love him any less, John?”

“How can you even ask me that? Whatever happens, Danny is my son. That won’t ever change.”

Vivian made a strangled sound, and the hiss of fabric sounded like she might have thrown her arms around him. Bix rushed away and up the stairs, impressed that Vivian could hug him after everything. That pang of missing something he never had was back, but this time it brought its friends outfitted with clubs and brass knuckles. No beating he’d taken in Sherman or anywhere else could hold a candle to how his own damn feelings were working him over. 

Bix hadn’t cried since he was a kid and he wasn’t about to start now, but his insides felt the way they always had after a good long wail, trembling and with a mind of their own. 

If they’d suspected Danny of liking guys all this time, then maybe Bix didn’t have to feel guilty about hanging around. It wasn’t like being around would cause Danny to miss out on meeting the girl of his dreams if he never dreamed of girls to start with. Danny had all but confirmed that before he’d overheard anything. 

But if he stayed, and if he gave in, leaving would be that much harder if things ever went bad. And didn’t they always go bad sooner or later? 

He didn’t want cake anymore, and every instinct inside him told him he should bounce before daylight. Bix would ache for a while, but he’d always gotten over that kind of thing, hadn’t he? Danny would be crushed, especially after Bix told him he’d still be there in the morning, but he’d live and learn and get hurt less next time. 

Bix turned on a lamp and looked into his dressing mirror, trying to be honest with himself. He really would pick a dirty, uncomfortable boxcar with Danny in it over a mansion given to him free and clear if he had to live in it alone. He wasn't sure when that started, whether it began on that first day when Danny referred to his money as "our money" like it was natural, or when he decided that Bix was coming home with him. 

He didn’t like wanting or needing anybody around. But the feeling when he was with Danny was nice enough that he’d stopped trying to fight it down. And he was supposed to be fighting it, wasn’t he?

“Do the right thing, Bix,” he said to his reflection. “Walk out that door and don’t look back. It’d be best for everybody.”

Problem was, he kept seeing Danny looking at him like he might be someone worth having around, and he was starting to think the man in the mirror might be a dirty liar. 

* * *

Bix did sleep in, but he’d still only managed to grab a few hours by the time he’d stopped wrestling with himself. He woke ready to dress and get out the door. Worst case scenario, he’d sleep there again tonight but spend the day out looking for a place to try to keep tensions to a minimum. 

“Bix?” Danny knocked. 

Bix pushed up in the bed to lean back against the pillow. “I’m awake.”

Danny came in with a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. 

“Bedside service. I hope you’re not expecting a tip, Danny, I’m flat broke.” He winked and drank half the orange juice. 

“I talked to Mom about leaving.”

“I thought you were going to think about it.”

“I did. Then we talked, and it’s just like you said it would be. They’re not going to stay together, and Mom’s worried that I’ll take off again if they carry on like before about which one of them I’ll stay with. So she thinks me moving out, somewhere nearby, is a good idea. I don’t have to choose that way.”

Bix barely got his swallow of coffee down. “Really?”

“Not long ago they bought some investment property they were going to have renovated and either rent or sell at a profit. This one’s small, but we’ll move in rent-free and do the repairs they were going to pay somebody to do. She said you told Dad you knew some basic carpentry, things like that.”

Bix nodded. He’d forgotten that conversation already after everything else. “Rent-free, huh? What about utilities, food, things like that?”

“Covered as long as we’re working on the house. When we’re done, if they think the work’s good enough, they’ll pay us to work on another house so we can take care of the bills and groceries ourselves.”

Seemed like Danny had it all planned out, and try as he might, Bix couldn’t find a problem with it. “You know how to remodel houses, Danny?”

“No, but I thought you could teach me some things and I could help when I’m not at my dad’s firm. He wants me to work there part-time just to see if it’s something I’m interested in.”

“Is it?”

Danny scoffed. “No, but it won’t hurt to do as he asks. It’ll make him happy.”

Bix had wondered if he should tell Danny about overhearing his parents’ conversation last night. He’d gone over the pros and cons, and that had been part of the reason he couldn’t sleep. If Vivian was alright with them moving in together to work on the house, he had a feeling she and Danny would have the conversation one day about some of the things she said last night. Bix wouldn’t rush that, mostly because he trusted Vivian to know what to say. And if John wanted Danny to come work with him, he’d meant what he said about Danny being his son, first and foremost. Maybe they’d have that conversation on their own one day, too. 

Bix keeping silent wasn’t going to end up with Danny getting hurt, and that was the worry that had kept him from sleeping. At least he could put that matter to rest.

“It’s tiny but it’s clean, and it’s just sitting empty waiting for somebody to move in. We can stay there tonight if you want. What do you think, Bix?”

Bix’ chest ached at how different he’d feel right now if he’d taken off last night like he’d tried to do.

“I think that’s swell.” Bix ruffled Danny’s hair, his hand lingering on the side of Danny’s head, then down to his face, before he let it drop. “Real swell.”

Danny leaned toward him. “There’s only a bed and a couch for sleeping, and a table and chairs, but she’s ordered a little furniture that can’t be delivered for about a week. I don’t mind, do you? We’ve slept in worse places, after all.”

“That we have, Danny boy. A couch is a lot better than a boxcar.” Bix stretched, not missing how Danny looked him over. “Hey, I never did go get that snack last night. Would I look like a bum if I had cake with breakfast?”

* * *

The place was only a fifteen-minute walk from the house Danny had grown up in, and a definite step up from the room in Sherman. 

This one had a sink that didn't leak too badly and an old electric refrigerator that topped out just above Bix' waist. The kitchen was complete with a two-burner stove and a table big enough for two, maybe as many as four if they didn't mind holding their plates in their laps. A grizzled looking couch that Vivian said had been carefully cleaned sat maybe a dozen feet away on the other side of the room. 

A double bed the previous owner had left behind—Vivian made sure it was cleaned, as well—was pushed into the corner of the only bedroom. A door off that room opened to the closet-sized bathroom with a white toilet, sink and bathtub all crammed so close together you could shave while sitting on the toilet and move in and out of the tub without your feet having to hit the floor.

Bix didn't mind. It was run down but clean, and was more comfortable than most places he'd ever stayed. Besides, Danny smiled at every new detail he noticed, and Danny was used to living in a really nice place. If he was satisfied with it, then it was fine with Bix. 

He sat on the mattress and bounced a couple of times, determined not to let this strange feeling of happiness show too much. He had a reputation to uphold, didn’t he? "This is as lumpy as bad gravy, but it’s better than a floor."

Danny sat next to him. "It’s not so bad. And it's ours." He bounced lightly. 

_Ours._ Danny probably hadn't realized how it sounded. Everything in this place was Danny’s alone, and the bed certainly wasn’t _ours_. They had singles coming anyway. "You want this or the couch for now? It's probably as bad." 

"I don't care."

"Good, I'll take whichever one is more comfortable."

Danny laughed and shoved his shoulder. 

"Okay, okay. I’m used to sleeping on the ground so it doesn't matter to me. Maybe I should sleep on the floor so I don't get spoiled by all this finery."

The smile fell from Danny's face. Bix wasn't sure by his expression if he was going to pout or punch something when he went into the kitchen. He followed.

"What's the matter, kid?"

"Why do you do that?" Danny turned, and Bix wished he’d looked angry instead of so sad. 

"Do what, Danny?"

“Say things like that. You wouldn't be worried about getting spoiled by a bed or a couch if you didn’t intend to leave and end up sleeping in a boxcar again. Every day I've known you, you can't help but talk about when you're leaving wherever you are, even now."

Bix wasn't sure why he did it when he had no intention of leaving, at least not anytime soon. “I didn't mean nothin' by it. It's habit, okay?"

"Is that really all it is?"

"I promise that today that's all it is."

"But maybe not tomorrow."

"Danny," he said in a scolding tone. "I can't promise anything beyond what I'm thinking and feeling right now. You can't either. Nobody can, for that matter. But I like this place, and right now, I want to stay. If nothing happens to turn me against the idea, I think I'd like to stay a good long while."

Danny looked like he was going to say something else, maybe argue about it, so Bix rubbed his hands together. “Hey, we’ve got some work to do, don’t we? We need to hit the hardware store and make a plan for tackling this place so we can get started first thing in the morning.”

Danny's shoulders dropped and the hint of a smile was back. “For someone who claims to be allergic to work, you’re sure in a hurry for it.”

“I’ve never minded work all that much. It’s the bosses that are the problem.” He clapped Danny’s shoulder and gently pushed him toward the door. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Two days later, Bix’ shoulders were sore from all the planing, sawing and sanding, but it was a good feeling, like he was doing something with himself and earning his keep. His back protested some of the things he did, and he wondered if the ground or a boxcar wouldn’t be more comfortable. The bed and the couch had turned out to be equally awful, just in different ways. You had to pick between lumps or springs when you got settled and hope you didn’t shift in your sleep. 

They’d brought the sawhorse Bix built into the kitchen because of a morning rainshower, and the stuffiness in the room sent a steady curtain of sweat down Bix’ sides. By ten in the morning, they’d both peeled off their button-ups and worked in their undershirts. 

Bix enjoyed watching Danny carefully sanding, the muscles in his arms and shoulders moving as he worked. Maybe they should do all the work inside just for that perk? 

“Looks good,” he said, as much about Danny himself as his technique. 

It had taken Danny a while to get the feel for planing a plank of wood. The first time, he’d gone back and forth so many times, not taking enough, then too much, and in trying to get the thing level he’d taken so much off they couldn’t use it. 

“Keep going, Danny," Bix had teased him, “and you’ll have mastered the fine art of making a toothpick from a two-by-four. We should frame that and hang it up somewhere, or call The Guinness Book of Records.”

That had led to a mock boxing match with both of them laughing and goofing around until Bix explained that he was doing well. It took practice, and he was actually picking it up fine. 

They had to replace the two kitchen cabinets which had warped from a roof leak who knew how many years ago, and a couple of the studs in that wall, so Danny would probably end up good at it all by the time they were done. 

Bix took over for him and pressed his palm against his lower back with a groan as he straightened. 

“You okay, Bix?”

“Yeah, my back’s just screaming about the couch.”

Danny picked up a rectangular piece of wood, one meant as a cabinet door. “Shouldn’t be but a few more days until we have decent beds.”

“The way my back feels today, I’m starting to miss sleeping in a boxcar.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

Bix touched Danny’s arm. “No, not really.”

“So what you said the other day, how as long as nothing happened to turn you against the idea, you’d stay a while?”

“Yeah.” Bix leaned into the plane. 

“What did you mean? What kind of thing would turn you against the idea of staying?”

"Oh, you know. Somebody gettin' in my face, trying to push me around and tell me what to do. Or looking down their nose at me like I don’t deserve respect, that's all. It always happens eventually, sometimes slower than other times, but it always happens. Like the guy on the train, or the clerk at the hardware store yesterday.”

“The man taking tickets on the train didn’t have an attitude with you. And Joe at the hardware store was just trying to joke around.”

“You’re naïve, Danny. We’ve been over this.”

“Bix, I’m telling you, you're so caught up in believing that everybody's got something against you, you never give them a chance before you're snarling at people, daring them to even speak to you again."

“Hey, watch it.”

“You expect everybody to look down on you, so you’re seeing things that aren’t there, Bix.”

"Oh, is that it? The whole problem is me, Danny?" He stepped toward Danny, forcing him backward. Bix didn’t know if it was the heat or the conversation he’d rather not have, but Danny was getting under his skin in a bad way. 

"Sometimes it is, yeah."

"Man oh man. And here all this time I thought I was Mr. Perfect. Thanks for setting me straight." He had Danny backed against the wall now, and put his hands against it to bracket his shoulders. Sure, he was half-teasing, but the anger he felt was real. 

"Bix—"

"No, go on and tell me more about my problems, Danny. I don't know how I got by before I met you." Bix said it sharper than he meant to, but he didn't move or apologize.

Danny's Adam's apple bobbed. "I'm just saying you've already made up your mind about people before you give them a chance, which is exactly what you think everybody is doing to you!"

Bix stared into Danny's eyes and let himself lean back a few inches. Danny might have had a point, one he'd never looked at quite that way before. But it didn't change the facts. "Most people do look at me and see a bum, a loser. Trash. I ain't even saying they're wrong, but maybe I don't like how open they are about it. Do unto others, man."

"I didn't see trash, because you're _not_ trash. You could have taken my wallet and left me unconscious in that railyard. Heck, you could have taken the money at any time and disappeared. But you tried to get me to go home for my own good from just about the minute I woke up. You tried to keep me out of trouble. You decided to help Cal when he was short a worker, and you saved Carrie. You could have walked away from any of us at any time, and you didn't, Bix. You're a good person whether you believe it or not."

It felt good to hear Danny say all those things, sure, but how could Bix let himself believe any of it? 

He couldn’t stay angry at Danny after hearing that, but he also didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He chuckled and tapped his knuckles against Danny's chin. "You thought Sadie was a fine dame, so I'm not sure we can trust your judgment."

"I knew something was wrong with that Jesse when everybody saw him as just a nuisance. My judgment might be a little better than you think. Besides, if you understand people so well, you should have picked up that I'm not as nice as everybody thinks I am."

Bix barked out a laugh. "What are you talking about? Find a dictionary, look up the word 'nice' and there's your photo, Danny. Nice, naïve, hell you've practically cornered the market on the letter 'n.'"

"I wanted you and Carrie to break up," he blurted as if he’d been dying to let it out. "How nice is that? I pretended not to mind, but I kept hoping you'd lose interest in each other."

That stopped Bix short. "I thought you liked Carrie."

Danny stared at the small bit of floor between their feet and licked his lips. "I do like her. But I was jealous of all the time you spent with her."

 _Jealous_. "You never said anything."

"I liked it best when it was just you and me, and sometimes I just wanted her to go away." He glanced up. "But I swear I didn't want anything like what happened, Bix. I never wanted to see Carrie get hurt."

"Oh, Danny, I know. You couldn't wish hurt like that on anybody. You're not the type."

His head hung again. "Maybe not, but I'm the type who wanted you to break up, so I'm not as nice as you thought, am I?" 

"But we did things together, you and me, Carrie and Peggy. It wasn't like I abandoned you for her." 

"I know, but that almost made it worse, having to watch the two of you together."

"Danny," Bix warned. 

"I just wanted you to be friends with her so maybe . . . . "

_Don't say it, Danny. Don't make it so easy for me._

Danny lifted his face, his lips parted. He looked even more scared than he had been at the railyard getting rolled by those two punks, or in the alley when they had to fight off the crooks from the pool hall. He was terrified, and Bix couldn't help wanting to get closer to him if only to ease that. But he felt natural there, close to Danny, practically pinning him to the wall. In the same way this tiny old house felt more like a home than anything had in years, being up close to Danny, feeling his warmth and seeing every little muscle twitch in his face, felt so damn comfortable.

It felt like a place he belonged. 

That made it too easy to push aside his doubts and all the little alarm bells in his brain telling him he ought to back off and stay away, for Danny's sake.

Danny cleared his throat. “So maybe you and me . . . .”

Despite his best, wisest instincts, Bix leaned in so close his lips almost brushed against Danny's, and whispered, "Maybe you and me _what_ , Danny?"

Danny shocked him by pressing his hand flat against Bix' chest. Lips trembling, he said, "I wanted you two to break up so much sometimes I could hardly stand it, because I wanted you and me . . . to be together."

Bix regretted needling him about being scared and wanting to run all those times he had. Danny might be the bravest person Bix had ever met. He'd just stood there with Bix looming over him and admitted he'd been jealous, and wanted them to be together, probably while he wasn't entirely sure how Bix might react. 

Danny was definitely braver than him on that front, at least. Bix wouldn't have had the guts to be the first one over that line even though he'd struggled to stay on his side of it since that first day they met. 

"Now that's a hell of a thing to say to a fella, isn't it, Danny?" Bix spoke as soft and low as he'd asked the question and didn't move a muscle backward. "Say somethin' like that to the wrong guy and he'd knock your head off."

"Yeah. But I've been thinking for a while now, you're not the wrong guy."

"That so?"

"When I suggested we travel together, you didn't put up much of a fight."

"You had a hundred bucks in your pocket. You think I'd be stupid enough to turn that down?"

"When I said I wanted you to come home with me, you didn't hesitate."

"I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Danny boy. Maybe that's all there was to it, you ever think of that?"

Danny blinked fast a few times, but then set his jaw. "I don't believe you. You always try to pretend you don't care, you're just out for yourself, but the things you do say otherwise. We've been close enough that I thought, I thought the way you looked at me . . . I don't think I'm wrong. Are you trying to say that I am?"

Danny's mouth was within reach, so damn close, but the little tremble in his voice got to Bix. He pushed away from the wall, away from Danny, who seemed too vulnerable all of a sudden. It was like trying to push a thousand-pound rock up a hill. 

"I'm not gonna knock your head off, if that's what you're asking." He turned his back and patted his pocket for his cigarettes as he walked across the room, which wasn't nearly far enough, just so he could breathe and think for a minute. 

"Bix? That's not what I'm asking." 

Bix laughed at the sheer moxie of it. He turned and narrowed his eyes at Danny. "Oh, Danny, you're kill—"

"I really thought you were going to kiss me, just now." Danny stuck his chin out, defiant, but the fear and uncertainty showed in his eyes. He wasn't going to run, though, was he? Bix liked this new side of Danny. He liked it a lot.

"What if I was?" Bix asked, just as matter-of-fact. 

"Then I'd wonder why you didn't."

Bix looked him up and down, something strange but a little familiar stirring inside him. Why the hell did he keep fighting this? "I'm starting to wonder that myself."

He started toward Danny, but before he’d taken two steps, someone knocked softly.

Bix wiped his hand over his mouth and tried not to feel like they'd been caught doing something wrong. He and Danny slipped on their long-sleeved shirts before he opened the door, insides shaking. 

Vivian beamed at him, carrying a white box with a ribbon wrapped around it. "Bix! I'm sorry to drop in unannounced but I had an appointment in town and wanted to see how things were going."

She put the box on the table and gave Danny a hug like she hadn't seen him in years. “How are the repairs coming? I know it’s not much but—"

"Mom, it's fine. We like it.”

Bix put his hands in his back pockets. "It's in pretty good shape, really."

Vivian clapped her hands together. "I'm so glad. Anyway, Bix, I know you’re a fan of chocolate cake, so I wanted you to taste one of our local specialties. It's a German chocolate torte that Nottingham's Bakery has been making the same way for a hundred years. Everybody around here just loves it. Think of it as a housewarming gift."

Bix chuckled. "Thank you, but that's too generous. I'm not sure you need to bring a housewarming gift when you bought the house."

She shrugged and wrinkled up her nose in a way he'd come to think of as endearing. He really ought to feel watched, invaded, her stopping in like that, like maybe since she owned the place she could come and go whenever she pleased. Not that long ago, Bix would have felt exactly that, but he didn't mind her stopping by at all. She was sweet, and kind, and maybe he was starting to trust her, too. 

"Do you two have plans for lunch?"

Bix and Danny glanced at each other. They hadn't even thought about it. 

"How about when I get finished, I come back and take us all out. We'll introduce Bix to another local favorite," she said to Danny.

Bix put his hand on his chest. "Ma'am, I will never be one to turn down free food."

"There is a catch," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I have some work for you to do around the house when you’re finished here, if you’ll agree to do it.”

Bix dropped his chin. "I guess that all depends on how good the food really is."

She laughed and patted his arm, then touched Danny's cheek. "See you in a bit."

Bix opened the door for her, and got the same cheek pat before she walked through it. One day, maybe it would stop surprising him and making it hard to swallow. 

Danny stood next to the table, glancing from the cake box to Bix, looking as uncertain as he’d ever seen him. Maybe Danny wanted to move on like nothing had happened? Maybe that was the best thing to do? Had it been a sign that she’d shown up when she did and stopped Bix from marching across the room and giving in to everything he’d been feeling? 

Bix rubbed the back of neck and turned his head to pop it. “I know people frown on eating dessert before dinner, but I’m starvin'. What do you say to a piece of that cake?”

Danny hesitated, but then he washed his hands, got a knife and a plate and cut a piece. Bix hadn't moved away from the door.

Danny waited a moment, then gestured at the cake. “I thought you were hungry, Bix.”

“Oh, Danny, I am.”

He could stall. Eat some cake, go right back to work and pretend nothing had happened between them. But Danny looked sad, and Bix was so sick of wondering about what was right, about what he should do, that he flat out didn’t have the energy to keep his distance anymore.

He rounded the table, cupped the back of Danny’s neck, and kissed him. 

Bix had already assumed that Danny had never kissed another guy, but he'd been pretty sure Peggy had gotten her lips on him at some point before they left Sherman. As Danny froze, Bix wasn't so sure. He leaned back, but Danny chased his lips and gave himself over to it so thoroughly, it reminded him of—he had to stop thinking about Carrie, especially at times like this. But the way Danny clung to him, twisting his fingers in Bix' collar and the back of his shirt, a soft sound rising up out of him when Bix started to pull away again, he knew Danny was as innocent as he'd suspected.

Bix drank that in, the fact that Danny's lips were his alone, and that whatever he and Danny did were all he would know about feeling good. It was as scary as it was exciting, and as much as he wanted to lead Danny to that lumpy mattress in the next room, he felt some responsibility to be sure he didn't screw this up.

He pressed their foreheads together and tried to catch his breath, though he was unwilling to put too much space between them. "Danny, I—"

"If you're going to tell me you're no good for me, you're a bum or any of the other awful things you keep saying about yourself, I don't want to hear it." It was hard not to shut him up with another kiss. but he let Danny talk. "You're good enough for me, Bix. You are."

Danny tried to kiss him again, but Bix held him back. Danny's cheeks were flushed and his lips pinker than normal, which only made him more tempting. "And even if I wasn't, you wouldn't care right now, would ya? You're all riled up, not thinking clear. I could do just about anything and you'd be okay with it."

Danny sobered a little as if what Bix said confused him. "Just about anything _would_ be okay, because it's you."

"You shouldn’t trust people like that," he said, giving Danny a little shake even though hearing it had thrilled him. "People will hurt you if you let 'em, get whatever they can out of ya and not care how it makes you feel. You've gotta watch out for number one, Danny. Nobody else'll do it for you." As he said the words, it felt like a speech from the past, one maybe he gave out of habit now more than anything. 

Danny gazed at him, warm and fond. “You watch out for me, so that’s not entirely true. And I hope you trust me, too, by now.”

"I do trust you, Danny." Had he trusted anybody else this way in his entire lifetime? 

“So _everybody_ isn’t out to hurt you.” 

“I guess not. You’re livin’ proof, ain't ya?” 

Danny's smile broadened and he pressed closer, his arms winding tight around Bix’ waist. "I don't even think it's most people."

Bix stroked his thumb over the corner of that smiling mouth. "Well, that might be pushin' it. Let's not forget how naïve you are."

When Danny groaned, Bix kissed him again. Woodwork and cake would have to wait. 


End file.
